Landlord to the Home of Real Southern Cooking

Let’s talk about the holes in the wall that you haven’t patched,
the malnourished, premature, neglected men from the church
stealing leftovers from my kitchen
then dying in droves in the basement.

Grasp the pole and remove the rat?
You grasp the pole and remove the rat!

Have you heard the new 50 Cent song that goes:
“There’s a king and queen with rubber in a room / where the freaks all come around.”
Well, guess what?
50 Cent is talking about my living room.

The tenancy agreement says “just do what comes natural.”
What comes natural to me is not going into the bathroom
and having men dressing a freshly-killed buffalo tell me,
“We’ll be out in a minute.”

What comes natural to me is not having strangers
mistake my television for a hand-towel dispenser
and constantly haranguing me with
“You’re out of towels again.”

What comes natural to me is not
being interrupted every time I take a shower
by people pulling the curtain open and asking,
“Is this the arena for the aqua-fighting?”

When you get into your bed at night
and are on the cusp of falling asleep,
do you have an old crone slide out from underneath
the boxsprings chanting:
when the dark
the dead
and the ravens
have their winter feast
you’ll be the least of
least of
least of
least of least.

Do you?
And, if so, do you find this
conducive to getting a good nights sleep?

I know that in the past,
when I have asked this question,
you’re response has always been “absolutely,”
but I ask it once again and hope
that you’ll find it in your heart
to, this time, answer truthfully.

And yes, I have confirmed that this old crone
is in fact your mother. I would have to think
that a woman of your means, who has her mother’s best interests at heart,
can find more suitable elder care arrangements
than having her live in a feral state under my bed.

In the meantime, a signed check
in the amount of $475 is enclosed
for rent for the month of February
for #1R, 442 Central Park West.

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